Flames of Sun, Armour of Sea and Crimson Eyes of Space and Time
by UchihaMadara2412
Summary: Harry's story is a bit different than before. His encounters with Voldemort change him over the years, so much that in the hopes of defeating the Dark Lord; Harry uses a Dark ritual to fix and strengthen his body, mind and magic. What it resulted in, was a surprise to all.


Flames of Sun, Armour of Sea and Crimson Eyes of Space and Time.

Chapter 1

Another one of my HP/Naruto crossovers, probably really bad and OOC but try it anyway.

Enjoy

\- Madara

The beginning is taken from the books straight, with a few differences that impact the story, Don't make any profit from this. Don't own the Harry potter series... If I did... I would probably be buying my mum a new house.

The things between Timeskips are the same as canon it's just not necessary to rewrite what is already known.

(Is a disclaimer really necessary?)

* * *

Edit: 17/05/2017, fixed a few grammar and spelling mistakes.

* * *

First Year

* * *

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the Mirror and opened them.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back into its pocket – and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into its pocket. Somehow – incredibly – he'd got the stone.

He was about to turn back to Quirrell but his reflection caught his eye again with some frantic waving. Harry looked over to the reflection and tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the series of gestures and mouth movements.

The reflection sighed and ran backwards into the mirror world, coming back with a thick book in its hands. It held the front cover of the book towards the Mirror face. Harry had to take a moment to decipher the words on the book, as they were written in a weird swirly and loopy way.

"Well?" Quirrell growled impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry sneaked a peek back at the Mirror to see the reflection nodding at him encouragingly, holding the book up higher, and moving it slightly towards Quirrell. The last Potter decided that telling Quirrell about the book would be better than lying altogether, the book didn't seem too important compared to the Stone.

"I see myself holding up an old looking book. It has a worn leathery cover and a title that looks handwritten." He stopped there and glanced over to Quirrell, who looked curious. "I can't really understand the title well as the way it is written is really loopy and swirly, with odd flicks and splits. But I could kind of read it." Quirrell's head snapped up to stare intently at the boy, eyes glowing slightly red in excitement.

"Let me speak to him... Face to face." A high voice whispered, seemingly from nowhere as Quirrell's lips weren't moving.

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell looked scared.

"I have enough strength... For this..."

Harry couldn't move, it felt like he had Devil's Snare wrapped around him, rooting him to the spot. He was frozen where he stood, helpless as he watched his former Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed if he could, but he could hardly breathe let alone scream in terror. The back of Quirrell's head wasn't there, replaced by a face. It was chalk white, with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter..." It whispered.

Harry tried to get away again but failed to move his legs even a centimetre.

"See what I have become?" The face said. "Mere shadow and vapour... I have form only when I share another's body... But there has always been people willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... You saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the Forest... And once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... But I am curious... What does the title of the book say?"

Harry looked down quickly to gather himself, looking up at the eerie red eyes he gathered up enough courage to ask a question.

"Can I look at the Mirror again? It's difficult to say without it in front of me."

"Go." The face said softly.

Harry hurried over to the mirror and looked at it again, seeing the reflection holding up the book again. He ran through the strange words in his head again, trying to figure out how to stall Quirrell and the face long enough for him to escape. He was unaware of the change in his voice as he spoke the title of the book.

"Mosste Potent Magick Ritualss for Thine Bodily Needss.'

The face's nonexistent eyebrows rose before a small smirk lifted thin lips. Harry could see the man mouth something starting with a 'pa' but it was soon forgotten as the face's mocking voice rang out once more into the room. "My my...Why Would Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived!, most desire a book of...Illegal... Dark...rituals?"

Harry shrunk in upon himself and tried to edge away from the widely smirking face, bright green eyes looking at the ground in shame, half broken, round, thick glasses almost falling off his nose. The eleven – soon to be twelve – year old wrapped his too skinny arms around his too skinny body pitifully and tried to disappear into the floor.

"... Ahh... I understand..." Harry looked up at Voldemort with wide eyes. The face looked almost... No... That couldn't be it. The face looked up at the high ceiling and narrowed its red eyes. "It seems that our first meeting since that night is going to be cut short." The thing sounded regretful." Keep the Stone, keep it hidden from those who would take it from you, those who would manipulate you. You will use the stone in future times... Its uses are not limited to giving immortality and transmuting gold. Goodbye... Harry Potter. We shall meet again."

A black misty smoke rose from Quirrell's head and rose into the ceiling, making the former Professor scream out in agony, trembling fingers trying to claw out his own eyes. The man began disintegrating, leaving only black smudges as his remains.

Harry looked wide eyed at what used to be a body, his small fingers rolling the red stone over and over again within his pocket. His frozen body finally moved and the boy bolted up the steps and out the door, robes flapping behind him.

* * *

Second Year

* * *

Harry was on his feet, ready. The Basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin, glittering, venomous...

It lunged blindly. Harry dodged it and hit the chamber wall. It lunged again and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. He raised the sword in both of his hands. The Basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true. Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth.

But as warm blood-drenched Harry's arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm and it splintered as the Basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Harry slid down the wall. He gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it was too late. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as he dropped the fang and watched his own blood soaking his robes, his vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull colour.

A patch of scarlet swam past and Harry heard a soft clatter of claws beside him.

"Fawkes," Harry coughed out. "You were brilliant, Fawkes..." He felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him.

He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of him.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," Riddle said, the soft lilts of the sixteen-year-olds voice ringing through his drowsy head. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what's he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

Harry blinked. Fawkes' head slid in and out of focus. Thick pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry.'

Harry felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning. "So ends the famous Harry Potter," Riddle said, his voice distant. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time... But Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must.'

To Harry's misty and incoherent mind, these words seemed to be the only thing that was true. Forsaken... Hermione went and got herself petrified despite knowing that it was dangerous to roam the corridors alone when the Basilisk was about.

Ron had got himself stuck on the other side of the collapsed ceiling, Harry knew that the red-head had enough time to get through – Harry himself had – yet he remained with the obliviated remains of their professor.

They were always safe when he got himself caught in these situations, it was always Harry that was facing against the reoccurring pattern of Voldemort appearances, no one else but him.

He was unwise to challenge Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he called himself. Harry was only a lowly Second Year, who procrastinated and fooled around instead of focusing on studying. Riddle was a sixth year when he was stuck in the diary. If he was strong enough to do that at sixteen years old... The Dark lord was leagues above him in skill, knowledge, strength. Everything.

He blatantly refused to call his mum a Mudblood though, so that thought didn't stick... Or he thought it didn't.

Yes. Harry was fated to face Voldemort and lose, it was only luck that Harry survived last year. It was only luck that had him lay here now, slowly dying.

Harry didn't want to die. The thought made him shiver in fear, death. He wanted to continue to live once more, save Ginny and get them all out of Here. Though the thought of finally meeting his parents plucked the back of his mind he ignored it and came up with a suicidal idea, an idea that might save his life.

He looked blearily at the teen that held his wand lazily in his hand. Harry focused on that feeling he got when he spoke to a snake, trying to summon his Parseltongue.

It failed at first, but his efforts managed to get Riddle's attention.

"Hmm?" The teen leant forward into Harry's face. "What was that, Harry? I couldn't hear what you said."

Harry coughed some blood and focused his eyes on the fuzzy Dark Lord. "I-I-I... I don't want to die, Voldemort." His sibilant voice was soft. He looked up at Riddle, who looked surprised.

"Please," He pleaded with his fellow Parselmouth. "I don't want to die... Do what you must, but... I just want to live..."

Tom looked searchingly at the twelve-year-old before crouching down beside the dying boy. "Truely? You would forssake all jusst to live?" Harry nodded faintly.

Tom smirked – what was it with Dark Lords and smirking? – "I don't think we have to worry about that, Harry. Look, the Phoenix hass healed the bite." Looking over slowly, with the world brightening around him, he watched as the tears were dripping into the gaping hole.

Riddle pointed Harry's wand at the healing would, much to Fawkes' protest, and began muttering under his breath. Something black dripped from the end of the wand and onto Harry's skin, seeming into the Basilisk bite and spreading just under the surface of the skin, leaving a tattoo like mark behind.

It was shaped like a snake, wrapping from just above his left elbow down to his wrist. The snake was mostly black but it had glowing yellow eyes, eerily like the eyes of the Basilisk that were destroyed by Fawkes.

"A ssign of your debt to me, it will hide from all but a sselect few." The older looked into cloudy green eyes and smirked. "Be relieved that I am being so merciful, Harry Potter. Without my aid, you would have died."

Harry looked back at the younger Voldemort tiredly, slightly annoyed at the markings on his arm. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Fawkes carrying over the Diary slowly, being careful not to be spotted by Tom.

Soon the Diary sat next to Harry – and coincidentally next to the basilisk fang that had been broken off the massive serpent. Quickly, behind Riddle's back, Harry picked up the fang and plunged it into the Diary. The almost solid form of Riddle gave out a pained choke and managed to turn his head around, watching as the ink spread out from the book across the stones below them.

Tom's body collapsed to the ground and began convulsing on the floor – a high pitched scream leaving his mouth. The teen managed to get his body still and turned around to face Harry, a small smirk on his face confusing the young Gryffindor. The shade's final words struck the boy deep into his heart and soul.

"Done like a true Slytherin..."

* * *

Third Year

* * *

"Don't see why you chose Runes and Arithmancy, Mate." Ron took a big bite out of a bit of toast. "You would have had an easy pass if you chose Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. You're letting Hagrid down as well, it's his first time teaching you know and he was looking forward to having us in his class. You could have easily fit Care of Magical Creatures in your timetable. Look," the boy grabbed Harry's timetable and laid it next to his own pointing out all the CoMC periods and the Arithmancy and Runes periods.

Harry looked at Ron with narrowed eyes, and was about to respond to the redhead's scathing comment but was saved by Hermione, who berated the idiot first.

"I think it's great that Harry's taking more initiative in his school work, unlike you Ron... 'Easy passes,'" the girl mocked. "You won't be saying that in a few years time when the OWLS and NEWTS come up."

"I don't see how you bring up exams now, they're, like, years away!"

"Still." Hermione crossed her arms and scowled at the Weasley. "Let Harry choose his own classes, at any rate, don't push him into anything."

Ron grumbled but handed Harry's timetable back eating the rest of his breakfast.

"Oi! Her'ne, o't oo 've." Ron swallowed. "Like, every class or somethin'."

Hermione huffed and picked up her bag, "It's Thursday so we have a free period first. I'm going to the library before Potions. Come if you want." She strode off, bushy hair swinging.

Harry looked at Ron cautiously and continued to eat silently, thoughts racing through his mind.

Ron started up an entirely new topic. "Those Dementors are scary, ain't they Harry?"

Harry and Hermione entered the bright classroom cautiously. Taking note of the runes inscribed everywhere they could see, and the wide double desks spread out in an open space.

They were the only Gryffindors in the Runes class, with the majority being Ravenclaws. They were followed by the Slytherins then by the Hufflepuffs.

Harry and Hermione took a seat together at the same desk, an empty one at the front of the room. Hermione looked like she was ready to burn her chair, with the amount of fidgeting she was doing.

The teacher walked in, not very noteworthy. Greying hair and blue eyes, she was an average looking person. Easy to forget the face.

"Welcome to Study of Ancient Runes. I am Professor Babbling and I will be teaching you for the remainder of your time in this subject. Due to the few pupils taking this subject, all houses will be taking this class at the same time. I will not tolerate any foolishness like House Rivalries, you are here to learn. That is all that will be happening in this class. Learning." The grey haired woman looked sternly out at the small gathering of students, her dark blue eyes flicking around everyone.

"I will be assigning study partners." A few in the class groaned. "There will be no change through the year, this is my final decision."

Babbling picked up a short piece of parchment on her desk and began naming. "Michael Corner with Ernie Macmillan. Daphne Greengrass with Sue Li. Terry Boot with Megan Jones. Draco Malfoy with Harry Potter. Anthony Goldstein with Tracey Davis. Blaise Zabini with Hermione Granger and Mandy Brocklehurst with Susan Bones. Sit with your partners quietly, this will be the seating plan."

Harry picked up his things quietly and moved over to Malfoy, followed by Hermione who sat next to Zabini a row behind them. Harry put his stuff down without a fuss, ignoring Malfoy who seemed to be satisfied with his partner.

"Hello, Potter."

Harry looked over to the blond and replied quietly. "Hello, Malfoy."

The blond nitwit seemed a little startled by Harry's attitude but it was barely visible on his face, a small twitch of the eyebrow was the only visible sign. The Malfoy scion suddenly held out his hand and looked imploringly at the Potter.

"My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you..."

Deciding to play along, Harry took the hand and shook it shortly. "Potter, Harry Potter."

"For the first day, we will only start with the basic runic alphabet that most of Northern Europe uses. The Elder Futhark rune set..."

"This doesn't make us friends, by the way, Malfoy."

"Of course. Who would have thought anything different, Potter?"

* * *

Now

* * *

There was repeated tap, tap, tapping on the window.

His eyes shot open as the remnants of the dream faded, bright green eyes looking up at a mottled ceiling blearily as he woke up. He sat up slowly, wincing slightly as he stretched his sore back. Messy, shoulder-blade length, black hair fell into Harry's face as he pushed his legs over the edge of his bed and rested his head in his palms, his hazy thoughts beginning to clear.

Harry looked up at the clock that sat next to his bed. 5:34 AM it read. He groaned in annoyance as he realised that he would probably not go back to sleep tonight.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

He looked up at his window and stared at the Barn Owl that sat outside, a small package tied to its leg. Harry frowned at the insistent owl and padded softly over to the window, opening it with care as to not awaken his relatives.

The owl hopped into his windowsill and stuck its leg out, the one with the package. Harry untied the rectangular package quickly and threw it on his bed, petting the owls head before offering it an owl treat before it left.

He watched as the owl flew off into the night, and as the small hints of dawn broke over the horizon. He turned and looked over to the bed where the mysterious package lay. He wasn't sure what it was, as his birthday wasn't for a while yet and no one else apart from his friends – and recently found family – sent him gifts or post that was not letters.

So with a narrowed eye and the Monster Book of Monsters ready, Harry unwrapped the brown paper and lay his eyes on a book that he had not seen for a couple years now.

Moste Potent Magick Rituals for Thine Bodily Needs, lay innocently on his bed, the emerald green ink shining out even in the dark room.

He tossed the book away from him and panicked slightly, his fearful green eyes cast down on the note that was underneath the book. It was written in eerily familiar writing and consisted of only three words.

Enjoy, Harry Potter.

* * *

So... What did you think? Was it OK?


End file.
